


A part of life

by belivaird_st



Category: Mrs. America (2020)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:42:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26801590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Phyllis takes Anne to pick out a pumpkin and bumps into Lottie Beth Hobbs.
Kudos: 3





	A part of life

“Just pick a pumpkin, honey. We haven’t got all day,” Phyllis Schlafly stands in the middle of the patch, shivering in her red housecoat, while her youngest daughter moves carefully through the soft mud and wet leaves to pick out her choice of pumpkin. Anne Schlafly picks up a bright orange medium size one with a corkscrew shaped looking stem.

“This one!” she says, happily.

“Oh, wonderful. That’s very lovely. Now let’s pay for it,” Phyllis nods, more than ready to head back to the car where she could turn up the heater.

Lottie Beth Hobbs happened to be the one who ran the local farmer’s stand business along with her husband who was leaned back in a fold-out chair sleeping with a sports cap pulled over his face. Phyllis beamed at the sight of her former anti-era mate while pulling out a few bills from her coral wallet to hand them over in payment.

“What a surprise seeing you here, Lottie,” the beehive blonde greets with a wide, affectionate smile. “Is this some sort of seasonal job?”

“On the side, yeah,” Lottie grunts, taking the money without barely looking up through her thick, coke bottle shaped glasses. She opened up the register to give out change in a swift, quick manner.

“Lottie, this is Anne, my youngest,” Phyllis goes on, placing a hand on the girl’s back.

“Hello,” Anne murmurs.

“Have you ever seen your mother shoot a buck?” Lottie questions. “Point blank. She’s a natural!”

Anne looks horrified. Phyllis quickly adds,

“We only hunt not to kill, but to eat,” she grins. “Isn’t that right, Lottie?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the older woman goes, watching Anne Schlafly pick up her pumpkin; cradling it like a newborn baby.

The drive home was quiet and uncomfortable. Anne looks frightened in the passenger seat with the imagery of her own mother shooting a deer dead in the middle of a wide open field.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Did you really shoot a deer?”

“A buck, you mean...”

“That’s still a deer, Mom—a male deer!”

“Yes, honey. I did.”

Anne now thought of the old Disney reel of Bambi which made her eyes sting with tears. Phyllis glances beside her and pats her knee.

“Now, now darling. We shoot ‘em everyday. It’s a part of life...” 

Anne Schlafly turns away from her mother and lays her chin on her fist with her elbow resting on the upholstery side car window. She could no longer speak now. There was no point when it came to Phyllis. 

Her mother, the deer killer.


End file.
